In These Bodies, We Will Die
by iAmTheWallflower
Summary: 'There's something about death that really makes a person lose themself.' Warning: character death, and mentions of suicide and sex.


_There's something about death that really makes a person lose themself._

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* * *

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Kurt's not quite sure at what point he gave up. He'd like to think that it was the moment it happened, the moment he received that dreaded phone call. But in reality, it was a few weeks before he really gave up.

He'd been running on autopilot for so long until it finally hit him. He was alone. Completely and utterly _alone_. The concept didn't seem that bad- to be alone- but after being with Blaine for five years, it was so foreign to be alone. Everything was so empty without someone else to share it with.

Blaine had only just graduated college. He was so young, so full of potential. How was it fair that the young die? No parent should have to outlive their child- not that the Anderson's cared too much. He was an imperfection in their eyes. They went to the funeral, didn't say a word to anyone, and left without a single tear.

It was clear to everyone that Kurt took his death the hardest, but no one even tried to help. Rachel tried. She and Jesse visited him shortly after the death. Seeing them, seeing how happy they were together, it just made things worse. Kurt wanted that back- that happiness, that love.

It was clear to everyone. After Blaine's death, Kurt just gave up. His ocean eyes had died. What had once held so much hope, so many dreams, was now dark and empty. He'd lost everything.

Including his will to live.

He felt so haunted. Blaine had died, but his presence was still there. It was as if Kurt could feel him standing near, or looking over his shoulder, but every time he turned around, the presence was gone. No matter what, Blaine was still six feet under.

Then something changed.

It happened the first time Kurt planned to kill himself. He'd gathered as much medication as possible, planning an overdose.

He took one pill. Then a second. And a third. He reached for another pill, but something stopped him. There was this airy force, holding back his wrist. Kurt, startled, looked around the room, but there was no one there. No one was holding his arm.

_It's just the pills_, he thought. _They're having some insane affect already._ He grabbed another pill, but when he went to lift it to his mouth, something grabbed him again.

"No…" The voice was nothing but a whisper, drifting through the silent air. There was this shimmer in the air, glowing where it had grabbed it wrist. "No…"

Kurt ripped his hand away from the misty light, stumbling away. His eyes were deceiving him. This _wasn't_ happening. He needed to finish those pills- to finish this all.

The light, this strange entity, was moving closer, growing denser. It was solidifying before his eyes. "Please, no…" the voice was a bit stronger, but still hoarse and dry.

Kurt rubbed at his eyes because _what the fuck is going on_? He realized he was still holding a pill, and the figure was too far away to stop him. He dry-swallowed it quickly.

"Please stop," the voice was stern and familiar.

When the entity started to show detail, Kurt knew his eyes were lying. Fate was cruel, forcing such a hallucination upon him. His eyes welled with tears.

Standing before him was the love of his life. Blaine. But he wasn't Blaine. His skin looked pale and translucent, an eerie glow coming from it. His hazel eyes were hollow, empty of all life.

Was that how Kurt's eyes looked? Did his ocean eyes really look so empty?

But the most unfamiliar quality was wings. This Blaine lookalike had wings. They eloquently arched away from his back, the feathers a blinding white.

Kurt just stared, not quite sure how to react. "…B-Blaine?"

The figure moved closer, reaching out a hand. Kurt flinched, but then there was a hand on his face. Except that there wasn't. Kurt could feel it, but it wasn't really there. What should have been warm, callused skin was just a strange, cold tingle.

"This can't be real," Kurt said, mostly to himself. Blaine looked at him with those empty eyes, a look of sadness upon his face. "Y-you can't be real. You… Blaine, you died."

His voice cracked. Kurt hadn't cried since the funeral, but he could feel tears welling in his eyes. He could feel his throat drying up.

"I'm not gone though. I can't move on," Blaine told him in a quiet voice. His hand was still on his cheek, though neither could feel the other's touch.

"How are you here? How is this possible?"

Blaine's hand fell to his side, having given up on feeling any warmth from Kurt's face. "I don't know… I'm really not sure. I've been with you this whole time, but never… this solid."

The two sat down on Kurt's bed. There is no dip where Blaine sat. It was as if he wasn't there at all.

"I've been with you since I died," there's a heavy sorrow in Blaine's voice. His empty eyes are tired and Kurt can see tears gathering, the silver pooling at the bottom of his eyes. Blaine went on to explain all that he'd seen. Kurt crying over his body in the hospital. His parents at his funeral- so blatantly not caring about the death of their son. Blaine started to cry, the silver drops sliding down his glowing face. "I wanted to help, Kurt. I wanted to be there for you," as he cried, he seemed to grow less solid. He was slowly fading.

"Blaine… What's it like?" Kurt asked in an innocent voice. Blaine looks at him with tear filled eyes. He's almost all gone now. "What's it like to die?"

They both know the dark meaning behind his words. It's all Kurt's been thinking about lately. How easy it must be, for everything to just stop.

Blaine looked away, shaking his head. "No, Kurt… Not now…"

And then he was gone, the only evidence he was ever there was a small, glowing white feather. Kurt examined it, making sure it was real. Nothing he did made the feather go away though.

"Oh Blaine…" he whimpered, clutching the delicate feather close. Over on the table, the pills were still waiting, but Kurt wasn't so sure he wanted to take them anymore.

* * *

Kurt didn't see Blaine again for a week. If it wasn't for the feather, which now stayed at his bedside, he would have passed it all off as some sick, strange delusion.

It was raining the next time they met. Kurt was sitting on his porch, watching lightning strike in the distance. The storm is growing closer. He was getting quite wet from the rain, but he didn't mind. It was peaceful. Storm watching was always one of Blaine's favorite things to do.

"You're going to catch a cold, you know," a quiet voice said.

Kurt swore he must have jumped a foot in the air. "Blaine… you're back," he breathed, unable to find his voice. The ghost nodded. "I thought… I thought I lost you again."

Blaine stared at him long and hard with those hauntingly empty eyes. "Kurt, you did lose me. I don't know how any of this is possible, but you have to remember. I'm not alive anymore."

Kurt blinked back tears. He didn't want to hear this, but he knows it's true. The rain was passing right through him, another reminder that he wasn't human. Kurt stared at the sky, watching the bright flashes streaking closer. "I miss you."

Those hollow eyes look at him some more. "Me too," he admitted softly. He reached over to grab Kurt's hand, but his hand slips through the skin. All Kurt could feel was a strange tingle.

"How come the rain doesn't go through your wings?"

Blaine looked back at his wings, shocked to see it was true. The rain streaked over the feathers. The droplets glowed until they hit the ground. Blaine spread his wings slightly, sending the silver drops in every direction. They looked like fireworks.

But Kurt wasn't watching him anymore. His eyes are staring blankly at the sky again. Thunder rumbled nearby. "It's really lonely without you."

"I'm always with you," Blaine told him softly. "Don't ever feel alone, okay? You're not."

"I was always afraid of lightning when you were alive," Kurt said in a monotone voice. It was as if he hadn't heard Blaine at all. "It's beautiful, really. But so deadly. You think I'd survive if I got struck?"

Blaine's eyes start to water a bit, and he began fading around the edges. "Kurt, please…"

"You still haven't told me what death is like," The silver tears slid down Blaine's face, making him glow brighter than normal. "Maybe I should just find out for myself."

"No, not now…" Kurt heard a faint whisper of protest, nearly drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder. The storm is right above them now. He turned, but his angel is no longer sitting next to him. All that remains is a small white feather, glowing in a small puddle of silver water.

Kurt hurried inside quickly.

The lightning didn't look so beautiful anymore.

* * *

Blaine visited Kurt a lot over the next few weeks. They'd lie in bed together at night, pretending they could feel the other.

Kurt would often wear Blaine's clothes. His smell still clung to them, and it made the visits seem _real_- like it was actually Blaine lying with him, instead of a ghost.

Kurt tried not to speak so much. He tended to make Blaine cry, and that made him disappear. They didn't really need to talk, so it wasn't much of a problem. Kurt quickly learned that Blaine wouldn't tell him what death was like; he always got the same answer.

"Not now."

Kurt stopped asking.

Blaine usually left in the middle of the night. Kurt could never figure out where exactly he went.

The times he left willingly never left a feather.

Kurt didn't know if those times were real.

He wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

* * *

Burt and Carole were coming to visit. Kurt hasn't seen his father since the funeral; he's been avoiding most people.

He didn't want to see them; he didn't want to see anyone. He wanted to live in his own little world, just him and Blaine. He didn't have a choice though; they were coming over for dinner whether he liked it or not.

Despite his dread, Kurt was never one to be a rude host. He cleaned and cooked and pretended everything was fine.

He was working on dinner when Blaine appeared. They stayed silent for a while, simply enjoying each other's company. But then Kurt began to cry.

Blaine tried to wrap his arms around his crying lover, but it was no use. Every time he tried to touch him, his fingers slipped through- an ever constant reminder that Blaine wasn't alive. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this!" He screeched, wiping furiously at his tears. "I c-can't act like everything is o-okay. Everything fucking sucks, okay?"

"Kurt…"

"Everyone else is moving on with their lives. But that's the problem. You were- no, you _are_ my life. And I can't act like I'm okay! I can't do it anymore!" Kurt cried, sobs racking through his body. "You know why they're coming tonight? To make sure I haven't done anything stupid. They don't care that I'm hurting- they just want to make sure that I'm not hurting myself."

"Kurt, that's not-"

"_I_ don't even know why I'm still here!" He shouted, refusing to look at Blaine. "I should have killed myself the first night you appeared. Things would be so much easier; it's not like I haven't already given up. No one cares-"

A surge of anger pulsed through Blaine. "Stop talking like that!" He roared. Instinctively, his hands grabbed Kurt's face, forcing him to look at him. "You can't keep thinking that no one would care if you died. You can't! Do you have any idea how many people would care? Think about your parents, think about Rachel and Jesse and Finn and Mercedes- all those people love you! Are you even listening to me?"

Kurt was staring at the angel with wide eyes. "Blaine… Blaine, I can feel you," he said quietly, a few tears sliding down his face. "Oh my god, I can feel you…"

His tears splashed against Blaine's hands. He felt their heat run down his skin. Under his fingertips, he could feel the familiar silky warmth of Kurt's skin. Silver welled at the bottom of his lifeless eyes, and his edges began to fade. "Kurt… I feel it too… I feel you!"

As the silver fell from his eyes, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Kurt's. They both savored the feeling of each other, fire on ice, before it was gone. Kurt's eyes opened to find his lover gone, a glowing white feather lying on the table instead.

Dinner went well; Kurt, for the first time, felt happy.

But no one else seemed to notice that glowing white feather.

* * *

Kurt had stopped feeling so empty.

Blaine stilled visited every night. Most nights, it was as if he wasn't even there. His fingers would slip through the skin. Neither could feel the other.

But there were other nights, nights like the one in the kitchen. They could feel each other. Blaine was able to touch Kurt, feel the fire of his skin. Kurt could touch Blaine, his icy flesh.

Those were the nights they cherished the most.

They were spent kissing and touching, making love to familiar skin.

They were the nights Kurt never wanted to end.

Those nights were always hardest to wake up from.

* * *

Kurt was slowly rebuilding his life. Blaine, more or less, was back in his life. Everything was falling back into routine.

Kurt would go to work for most of the day, then at night, they'd lie in bed together. Blaine still didn't stay the night, leaving while Kurt was asleep, but he was always there when Kurt returned from work.

But one day, Kurt didn't return.

A sinking feeling of dread filled Blaine. Sometime inside him just knew- Kurt wouldn't be coming home today.

The city was fairly busy that night. People pushed past each other, trying to get to their destination.

No one noticed the small boy making his way to the bus stop.

No one noticed as he was dragged deep into a dark alley, far away from other people.

No one heard his desperate cries at the man attacked him- beat, raped, and stabbed him.

No one, except the ghostly boy, with his translucent skin and shining white wings.

"Someone, please!" He screamed, running out of the alley way. "Help me! Please! My boyfriend was attacked!"

People walked right through him. No one could see or hear him; he was not their ghost.

"Someone has to help me!" Blaine shouted, trying to grab passersby. His fingers slipped through their skin, each getting a strange tingle through their skin. "Damn it, can anyone hear me?"

"Blaine…" He wasn't sure how he heard the whisper, but he quickly rushed back into the alley way.

Kurt was lying in a heap on the ground. He was broken, bruised, and bleeding.

"Oh Kurt…" Blaine cried, silver pooling in his eyes. But he didn't begin to fade. He stayed solid as ever. His wings, always so poised and eloquent, hung limply from his back.

Kurt stretched out a hand, touching Blaine's cheek. The usual fire of his skin was gone. Instead, it felt like ice on ice. "I want to know something…" His voice was weak, cracking halfway through. Blaine just nodded, silver droplets falling free. "W-what… What's it like? Dying, I mean. What's death like?"

Blaine's empty eyes stared at him for a moment. "I can't-"

Kurt was crying, those ocean eyes looking almost as empty as Blaine's. "Please," he whimpered. "I just… Blaine, I'm not gonna make it."

The spirit shook his head rapidly. "No, no, don't think that way!"

"No one is going to find me, you know that. No one else can hear you," Kurt said softly, knowing there was no escape from the inevitable. "I want to know… Please, just tell me what it's like."

"It's… hard to explain," Blaine said finally. "I'm not sure what it's really like, the moving on part. Some people get stuck on Earth."

"Is that what happened to you? Why you're still here?"

He nodded slightly. "I loved you too much, Kurt… I couldn't leave without you."

"Why wouldn't you just let me kill myself?"

"It hurts, Kurt. Death hurts, a lot," silver stained his skin. "The people who get stuck, I've met some other spirits. They all said suicide hurt the most… I couldn't let you do that to yourself."

Kurt cried, curling his body into a ball. "It does hurt… Blaine, it hurts so much."

"But that's the thing, it'll only hurt for a little while," he told him optimistically. "It's like getting a shot. A quick pinch, you know?"

Kurt didn't see how this pain could possibly be considered quick.

"I know it doesn't seem that way right now. It's going to hurt a lot. But… you have to be grateful. You don't feel much, once you're dead. After the pain, you just feel… empty. But it's not exactly a bad empty. You still have emotions, although they always seem dulled. It's hard to explain."

"Why wouldn't you tell me what it was like before?"

Blaine just shrugged. "I d-don't know… You were still so alive, you know? I didn't want you to spend all your time alive thinking about death."

"Will you be able to move on now?" Kurt asked quietly.

The angel stood up, holding out a glowing hand. Tentatively, Kurt took grabbed it with his own hand. Blaine pulled him up and smiled. While Kurt stood up, his body stayed down.

Instead, what rose was a translucent Kurt, with glowing skin, empty eyes, and most importantly, an eloquent pair of wings arching from his back.

Blaine smiled. "Yeah, I think we'll be able to move on."

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There's something about death that really makes a person lose themself. But there's something about love that helps them find themself again.

-  
This story has been forming in my head for weeks now. I could hardly think about anything else, I was constantly writing scenes in my head.  
I had about ten different endings planned before I finally picked this one. Speaking of endings, in the time it took my to write the ending, I had watched the entirety of Repo! The Genetic Opera, and half an episode of Iron Chef.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. Reviews would be lovely!


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